


Good Luck Charm

by claudinedelyon



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Short & Sweet, Some Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25335202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudinedelyon/pseuds/claudinedelyon
Summary: It takes more than one second to give another look at his reflection, try to adjust the jacket that looks way too grown-up, way too formal and definitely way too green for him. Isn’t it enough that he’s going to the thing, does he really need to wear a suit as well?Eventually, he grabs the curtain and pulls it back perhaps more forcefully than the poor thing deserves.“I look like a fucking leprechaun.”--A dressing room meet-cute
Relationships: Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta
Comments: 18
Kudos: 49





	Good Luck Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [meet-cute prompt](https://50-item-writing-prompts.tumblr.com/post/181844119575/50-meet-cutes): "You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it’s not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought."

“Why can’t I just wear black?” Martino asks, examining his reflection under the harsh light of the dressing room and trying to step back as much he can in the very narrow booth he is currently stood in.

“Because it’s your dad’s wedding, not a fucking funeral.”

Impatience has been progressively seeping into Elia’s voice pretty much from the moment they stepped foot into the store. So, it is only out of respect for his friend’s sacrifice that Martino keeps to himself that there isn’t much difference in how he feels about either of those things.

“Fine, but how about…”

“So help me, Marti, if you say blue, I will come in here, gouge your eyes out and feed them to Paola’s annoying yappy dog. Now, will you show me the damn suit?”

Martino’s hands freeze on the last button of his shirt at his friend’s casually murderous tone.

“Just give me a sec.”

A very heavy sigh reaches him from right behind the curtain, but Elia doesn’t follow through on his threat, and Martino exhales in relief. It takes more than one second to give another look at his reflection, try to adjust the jacket that looks way too grown-up, way too formal and definitely way too green for him. Isn’t it enough that he’s going to the thing, does he really need to wear a suit as well?

Eventually, he grabs the curtain and pulls it back perhaps more forcefully than the poor thing deserves.

“I look like a fucking leprechaun.”

The step he takes outside leads him to collide right into someone who is standing at the entrance of the next dressing room, someone who is definitely not Elia. Elia, who, Martino realizes with a brief glance around him, is now nowhere to be seen.

“I beg to disagree,” the guy says, once he’s taken a step back to rub his shoulder and give him a quick once-over. “Although, aren’t leprechauns supposed to be good luck or something?

“I have no idea,” Martino stammers before nodding in the direction of where the guy still has a hand pressed on his arm. “Sorry, I thought you were my friend.” It takes some effort for Martino not to wince at his own words, but the guy just seems amused by them. He puts on a wounded look.

“Are you saying I’m not?”

Something was annoying Martino just a second ago, he’s pretty sure, and yet he can’t remember what it is anymore. All he can do is smile at the guy who then takes to studying the jacket with interest.

“You don’t like the suit?”

He sounds like he actually cares about the answer, which is a bit odd, but Martino is not going to question it as long as the stranger, dark-haired, green-eyed and with a grin that seems always ready to break, keeps looking at him like that.

"I'm not sure. I don't actually wear a lot of suits."

For some reason, his words make the guy grin even wider.

"Yeah, actually..." And then, he extends a hand before aborting the gesture and pointing in the general direction of Martino’s neck. "Do you mind?"

Martino's pretty sure he's just forgotten every single word he's ever learned, so he gives a vague gesture and nods in approbation of whatever the guy might have in mind.

Somehow, with not enough space to have a full view of the outfit, Martino must have missed something, because the guy starts by fixing the collar of his shirt, his fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, before moving on to the lapels of the jacket. When he takes a step back to admire his work, Martino realizes he hasn’t been breathing the entire time and lets out an exhale as discreetly as possible.

“Much better,” the guy declares, giving a decisive nod.

“Thanks.”

Martino has no idea what he even needed a suit for.

“That’s a good color on you.”

Right, he’s wearing a green suit that he needs for his father’s wedding. He looks down at himself and although the suit doesn’t look as inappropriate as it did before, he still can’t help a grimace. “Are you sure?”

The guy picks up a few clothes that are hanging in the empty dressing room behind him before giving Martino one last look.

"I think you should get the suit. I have a feeling it might be lucky."

With that, he gives another smile, smaller and softer, before turning around and heading back into the store. Martino’s eyes follow him until they fall on Elia, who is standing at the entrance of the dressing rooms, his arms crossed and holding a bunch of ties, with an infuriating smile on his face. How long he’s been here, he has no idea, but any length of time is probably too long.

Without a word, Elia raises his eyebrows inquiringly.

“Shut up,” Martino grumbles before going back into his dressing room and pulling the curtain shut behind him.

Elia very kindly does not mention that any reservations Martino might have had about the suit have magically evaporated when he finally comes back out. He also keeps quiet when he goes to pay for it and the guy is suddenly standing behind the cash register with a hundred-watt grin. Martino has no idea how he managed to miss him while he was scouring the shelves before, because now he's all he can see.

The guy congratulates him on his choice with a knowing look before wishing them a good day and Martino tries not to be disappointed when they step outside the store and the whole thing is suddenly over.

They set out on their next errand, a search for a wedding gift, and Elia continues not to mention it while they argue over dishes and candles, but Martino is not naive enough to believe that he's heard the end of it.

At home, a couple of hours later, when Martino upturns his bags on his bed to hang the suit, something falls to the ground. Upon closer inspection, he recognizes the name of the clothing store on what is actually a small business card. Behind it is a phone number scribbled in green pen, followed by just four letters: Nico.


End file.
